Honeysuckle Summer (The Sweet Magnolias #7)(95)

“Here’s something I think you need to recognize,” Dr. McDaniels said. “It seems to me that even shut away in this house the way you have been, you’ve led a fuller, richer life than she had. You have the support of countless friends. You have a man who clearly adores you.”

At the mention of Carter, Raylene hesitated, then blurted, “I slept with Carter night before last.”

The psychologist didn’t even try to hide her surprise, or her pleasure. “Good for you. The breakthroughs seem to be coming fast and furious these days.”

“You think so?” Raylene asked skeptically. Of course, sleeping with Carter had been huge, but it seemed to her that nothing else had changed. She couldn’t see how knowing her mom had been agoraphobic had really changed anything, either.

“It certainly seems that way to me. A few short weeks ago, you couldn’t even bear for Carter to put his arm around you. I certainly consider making love an important breakthrough.”

Raylene acknowledged that initial skittish reaction months ago was a far cry from what she’d felt the other night. She’d felt safe, at least when she’d allowed herself to believe that what they had could last. She’d had a delicious taste of normalcy, and it had made her want more.

Suddenly more determined than ever not to let Paul ruin her progress, she met Dr. McDaniels’s gaze. “Let’s go outside. I’ve missed being on the patio the past few days.”

“Good for you.”

A few minutes later, taking a seat under an umbrella that shaded them from the sun, she sighed. “It doesn’t seem like much.”

“Think about where you were when we first started these sessions.”

“But I want to be able to do things other women do. I don’t want to be half a person. That’s not fair to Carter.”

“Has Carter complained about your limitations?”

She shook her head. “But, come on, his patience can’t last forever.”

“Maybe it can,” the psychologist said. “Who are you to decide what he can handle?”

“Okay, then maybe I’m the one who can’t handle it,” Raylene retorted. “If I’m going to have a real relationship, a meaningful one, then I want to bring all of me to it. Right now I’m just a bundle of fears and insecurities.”

“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“It’s how I feel.”

“Okay, let’s talk about that,” the doctor said, her tone annoyingly reasonable. “What’s out there in the world that you want and can’t have?”

“A normal life.”

“Be more specific.”

“I’d like to have a job,” she said, thinking of old dreams when she’d wanted something more than to be Paul’s wife and lead a life of leisure. Ironically, she’d learned to hate that role during her marriage. It was even worse now that it had been forced on her by her fears.

“And if Carter and I were to have kids, I’d want to be able to walk with them on their first day of school, see their plays and holiday programs, go to their ball games,” she continued. “I want to go to the movies with my husband, walk into town for ice cream, take part in all of the town’s holiday festivals.”

“How badly do you want all that?”

“More than I’d ever realized,” she said wistfully.

“Good,” Dr. McDaniels said. “Then let’s try to make sure you get it.” She stood up and beckoned to Raylene. “Let’s go.”

Raylene froze. “Now?”

“No time like the present,” the doctor confirmed. “The patio has started to feel safe. Let’s see if we can’t make the rest of the world feel that way, too.”

Raylene stood, but her knees nearly buckled. “What exactly do you want to do?”

“I thought we’d go for a little walk. Just out to the mailbox, maybe even a few feet down the street.”

Raylene thought about how close that was, just a few hundred feet or so. It might as well have been across town. She had to fight panic even before they rounded the side of the house.

“You can do this,” Dr. McDaniels assured her. “I’m going to be right beside you, just the way I was when we went outside to meet Carter that day. This will be only a little farther. You’re going to be perfectly safe. You already know that there are people out there to protect you. There’s no risk of Paul getting to you.”

It all sounded perfectly rational and sane, but that was the problem. Nothing about her responses were sane or rational. Eventually, though, she nodded. If she truly wanted that normal life she’d described, she had to do this. And if she could do it now, when her fears were nearly overwhelming, it would be a huge triumph, proof that she would conquer the agoraphobia.

As they reached the front yard, the psychologist paused. “You don’t have to rush,” she told her. “Take your time. One step, then another, at your own pace. You know the drill.”

On an intellectual level, it seemed crazy to Raylene that she had to be coached in order to walk down a sidewalk to the mailbox at the curb, but emotionally the distance seemed like miles, miles that were fraught with more unseen obstacles than she could count.

She stepped onto the sidewalk with a small measure of confidence, then waited for the sweaty palms and shortness of breath to kick in. To her surprise, that didn’t happen this time. Maybe because the weeks of small victories in the garden had given her confidence, perhaps because the medicine was finally doing its job, she had no idea which. She was simply grateful for the respite from panic.